A tearful day.
I guess I knew there would be days like these. Days of disappointment and frustration. Days of questions. Days where it would be hard to reconcile truths I know in my head with a disappointed heart. Until yesterday, this hospital stay has felt remarkably joy-filled... Hard, yes. Not ideal, no. But an overwhelming sense of peace and joy and trust.
And then yesterday happened. I woke up at 4.45am... Another scare. We quickly assessed that the baby was fine, the bleeding had stopped. I breathed a sigh of relief.
And then came the cannula.
Such a silly thing to get upset about, but the history is that cannulas and I do not get on. I have tiny veins, they use the biggest cannulas out there (they have to). And I find it hard to reconcile the pain and discomfort of having one hanging off me the whole time when each time they've been removed after three days without ever having been used.
They have long since given up trying to insert them themselves, anaesthetists are standard with my veins now. They are not friendly veins.
But from the second they put this one in, I knew there was something wrong. It was beyond uncomfortable and sent a shock of pain if I so much as moved my hand. I spent 45 minutes in tears before they capitulated and took it out. I sobbed as they removed it. It was agony.
Yesterday was not a good day.
The day was shrouded in dull cloud, exhaustion and recovery.
But as the day went on it got brighter. A visit from Dave and the girls; hot chocolates, cuddles and excited voices. An evening visit from one of my lovely NCT friends with laughter and chat. It was just what I needed.
And they never returned to replace the cannula.
Small mercies, but the Lord knows what I need... Time with my family, laughter with friends... And no cannulas.
Today is a new day.